The Unpleasant Surprise

Today I took Mom on "an adventure" as she called it. It really wasn't such an adventure, but rather, a trip to the local diner and then to the audiologist for hearing tests and checks on her hearing aids. En route to the diner (Mom's favorite place to eat out) I drove past the house that I grew up in--the house that Mom lived in for 45 years, first with our entire family, and then finally, just with my uncle up to 7 years ago. I stopped in the driveway and the following ensued:

Mom: " Why are we stopping here? Who lives here?"

Me: " This is your old house."

Mom: " Are you sure?"

Me: "Yes, I'm sure--remember sitting on the front porch? You lived upstairs and Uncle Frank and Aunt Sylvia lived downstairs."

Mom ( with a blank look on her face and a shrug of her shoulders): I really don't remember this at all."

Ahhhh-- yet another unpleasant surprise as part of the ongoing changes that occur all too often. Slowly but surely the threads of our shared past are unraveling. The woman with the most wonderful memory can't recall the house where she raised her children and sat Shiva for her father and husband. I can live happily without more surprises like this one!

And yet, the rest of the day was successful--we lunched and talked briefly and took care of the hearing aids that have not been functioning correctly for quite a long time--in all, an okay day if I can forget what she has already forgotten.

How Should I Answer This?

Each night a conversation on the phone keeps me awake with worry. Mom calls or I call her between 9:30 and 10:00 PM. She needs to hear my voice each night before going to bed, and I am happy to offer her that connection. However, the caveat in that conversation is that each night she asks " When can I finally get out of here (the nursing home) and go home?" I often respond with the evasive--"we'll see"-- the same phrase that she used so many times on my brother and myself while we were growing up, and we hated it! She recently began asking to come live with me--something she always said she wouldn't want. This is the dilemma. How do I answer that? I know intellectually that I can't really provide all that she needs right now without essentially tabling my own life and offering her no social interaction except her contact with us. She needs professional people to manage her medications (she would fight with me about taking them); she needs professional people to insist she take a shower (she might not be able to get in and out of our bathtub to shower, and would fight with me about the need for one); she refuses to have her clothing washed, but the aides in the nursing home insist, and get to do it; when she gets sick, I would not be able to get her to the doctor because she would not agree to go (this has happened before); she cannot be left home alone--so I would need to take her everywhere with me and Larry; she cannot travel long distances ( we would not be able to visit our out of town children and grandchildren ); and my brother is not willing or able to give me the respite I might need from the daily life of mom living here.

So, how much of this sounds selfish and how much of this is the reality that she really needs professional care that only a nursing facility can offer since she hasn't the financial resources to pay for help in the house. The question of the day, night, week and month is how do I answer her plea for escape from the nursing home? Even when I attempt to explain, she forgets the conversation and we repeat it each evening. I am at a loss for the "right" answer. I want to be sensitive and loving and none of this ever sounds that way. I muddle through each night and then agonize that I am STILL not the daughter I want to be.

The Downward Spiral

Soon a new year ( a lunar year) will begin. With it, the change is palpable. My mother, who never stayed in her room or refused to leave a bed, or failed to get dressed unless she had a raging fever is now a different person. Last week I needed to feed her her lunch and she fell asleep while eating it! True, she had bronchitis and the nursing home doctor probably waited too long before prescribing an antibiotic, but there is more to it than that.

I fear that my mother is spiraling downward both emotionally and physically. It is what I feared when we first talked about a nursing home. I believe that she is giving up. I believe that she is so depressed by the surroundings and the finality of her new address that she can't muster the physical or emotional strength to meet some of the challenges of daily life. Of course I pray that once the bronchitis is gone she may rebound, but inwardly I fear that she will not. She speaks about all of her losses--my dad, her vision, her home and her independence every day! She sounds beaten and hopeless in a voice that I cannot recognize. She apologizes for dumping these things on me ( her words, not mine) but always says that she has nobody else to talk to. I have tried pointing out other friendly women who might be good to talk to. There are actually several people who greet her each day. But she is spiraling to a place that really can't be open to friendships--she just doesn't have the emotional energy for it.

I plan to speak to the psychologist and social director about her, but I'm not sure they will be able to get results--is this the Alzheimer's or is it due to having a broken spirit? Herein lies the devil's curse-- I may never really know that. All I know is that 6 months ago she was markedly different. She was mildly confused and forgetful, but she got out of bed every day and had a purpose to her life. Now she believes there is no purpose and lacks any of her old traits.

The downward spiral is sucking her in and I fear I cannot stop it.